


do you picture a better life

by gracesfonda



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/F, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-10-07 12:32:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracesfonda/pseuds/gracesfonda
Summary: Grace had only ever felt full two times in her life. One was because of vodka, the other was because of Frankie Bergstein. The two didn’t mix well, no matter how hard she tried. And, oddly enough when Grace was full because of Frankie she didn’t want to be full from vodka. But, when she was full of vodka, all she wanted was to be full of Frankie. And, every time Frankie walks away, every time she leaves Grace alone, she wonders if that's all this is for Frankie: something she can easily walk away from like nothing ever happened.An AU where Grace and Frankie have been having an affair instead of Robert and Sol.





	1. The Beach House

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thanks for reading :) i love you all and hope you enjoy

“We haven’t spoken in three days and that’s the first thing you wanted to say to me?”

“Are you just going to fucking walk away like that?” Frankie screams from the studio door, her emotions getting the better of her as Grace descends the stairs to the main house. Neither of them had a reason to be angry, neither had a reason for whatever this was between them; except for maybe jealousy and longing. 

The longing of wanting to be exclusively each other’s despite both being married, despite whatever arrangement they have going but never talked about: Grace going to a “work conference,” Frankie on a “wilderness retreat.” Conveniently enough when both of their husbands were away. The only reality of both their lies being common ground at the beach house. Only when they won’t get caught. But recently its been harder to stay away, harder to keep the fantasy away from reality. And, it’s always the same: Grace sneaking into Frankie’s studio at odd hours as long as the darkness surrounds them, undressing herself and then Frankie, both women coming until they fall asleep exhausted. Grace never talks after they finish, in fact she hardly ever talks at all leaving Frankie to overcompensate. Grace always leaves in the middle of the night, Frankie always wakes alone, and she's never invited into Grace’s room. 

There was also the jealousy of not having each other in 17 long days, tensions flying high since both couples are spending the week at the beach house, and not knowing when they’ll get to have each other next. 

Grace and Frankie haven’t talked since Grace snuck out to Frankie’s studio the first night at the beach house together, only to open the door and be confronted by moaning. Had she stuck around, or bothered to answer her phone minutes prior, she would have known it was just Frankie getting herself off while Sol was in the shower. Frankie and Sol didn’t fuck. Hadn’t in a long time. He probably wanted to, probably missed it, but how could Frankie ever want him when she has everything she’s ever dreamed of when she has Grace? 

But Grace didn’t talk, didn’t ask, didn’t know how. Sol slept on the couch, Frankie in her bed. Like they had for a while. Frankie would like to confide to that Grace, tell her how rocky her marriage has been since long before this thing between them started but Grace doesn’t like to talk. 

Frankie locked the studio door after that, half to make Grace jealous, and half so she wouldn’t come in out of habit and start fucking her in a sleepy haze before she realized Sol was present, making for one awkward conversation none of them were ready for. But Grace didn’t bother to ask. And, Frankie didn’t bother to offer up the information. 

“Are you just going to run to your precious studio every time we have a little argument?” Grace spat back, not turning around to face Frankie.

“It’s not like we ever talk anyway. But, what do you think is colder? Antarctica or your heart?” Frankie asked, playing into whatever this fight was, being one to always gave Grace whatever she wanted. And, this time it wasn’t her mouth or her fingers but a good old fashioned fight. When Grace continued down the stairs she tried again, hardly getting a word out before Grace cut her off.

“Frankie,” Grace warned, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. “You won’t like me when I’m angry.” Frankie watched as Grace’s nostrils flared and her fists clenched by her sides.

Frankie laughed, knowing she was hitting a nerve before she even spoke. “Bold of you to assume I would like you, ever.” 

“Is that why you fucked Sol?” Grace asked, eyes dark, words cold. 

Frankie shrugged, neglecting to answer the question at hand, sending Grace turning on her heel. “Maybe I’ll take him for another spin and let you know,” Frankie chuckled, as she leaned against the door frame. 3, 2, 1, she counted down on her fingers, knowing that would draw Grace back in, no doubt more pissed than she had been before. And, she was right. Grace spun right back around, darting back up the stairs faster than Frankie had seen her move in the last twenty years.

“Does he fuck you better than I do?” Grace asked, her mouth so close to Frankie’s that she could feel her hot breath against her lips, smell the vodka that lingered. “That’s cute,” she chuckled, amused when Frankie didn’t respond.

“Tread lightly,” Frankie wanted, holding Grace’s eye. Hating to be the one to remind Grace that she actually loves her husband, but knowing it had to be done. 

“Does he do the things I do?”

“Maybe better,” Frankie shrugged again, deciding if Grace wanted to play dirty she could also.

Grace let out a laugh, not a fake one either. A genuine laugh, she actually thought it was funny, Frankie thinking someone could be better than her, thinking someone could make her come undone as Grace does. Frankie’s blood boiled. 

“You don’t agree?” She asked, placing her hands on her hips. 

“There’s no way,” Grace began, her voice two octaves lower than Frankie had ever head it. “But, go, by all means, go crawling back to your husband. You be the judge of who fucks you better,” Grace pushed Frankie back against the doorframe, her knee resting between Frankie’s legs, her lips centimeters from Frankie’s hot skin. “But if you really think he can do that thing I do with my tongue? You remember? The one that makes you scream? Or the one that renders you to a pile of nothing, then by all means--”

“Girls?” Rings through her ears and she jumps a mile from Frankie before she's had time to blink before she's had time to comprehend what’s happening. 

“Where did you run off to?” She hears Sol ask. Her hand is against her heart as if she's had an attack. And, she thinks she might have. They’ve never been this close to getting caught before. Never came close. She hardly has time to let it sink into her brain, next thing she knows, Frankie’s lips are up against her ear, breathing hot.

“If you can be nice and keep it together for the rest of the evening, I’ll take care of you tonight. But I can’t stand having to be quiet, I want to hear you moan baby.” 

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” Grace moans, her body going slack against the rail.

“Let's see if we can convince the guys to take off for dinner then,” Frankie suggests and places a rough kiss to Grace's neck, then as the guys appear in her peripheral vision, she sets off down the stairs as nothing had happened. And, as she leaves Grace alone, she wonders if that's all this is for Frankie: something she can easily walk away from like nothing ever happened.


	2. The Restroom

Grace knows she shouldn’t be doing this. Knows they shouldn’t be doing this. Knows what would happen if someone found out. Especially with their husbands right outside, the door being the only barrier separating them. 

Grace knows she should push Frankie’s wandering hand away instead of guiding it down between her unbuttoned designer slacks and lace panties, should pick her purse up off the floor and walk back to their table but all of that is lost on her as Frankie’s lips connect roughly to her exposed collar bone. 

“Don’t be so rough. There can’t be any marks,” Grace moans, her words being more from habit than concern. Fuck, if Frankie wants to mark her, Grace should let her, wants to let her, but she can’t bring herself to say the words out loud. “Where Robert can see,” she forces herself to say, it being the closest thing she can come to asking for what she actually wants. After all, it’ll be the only thing she has to remind herself that this was real, the only thing to keep her going until the next time she’s in this position. 

Well, maybe not this exact position: pressed against the sink of a restaurant bathroom, knuckles white with anticipation, head thrown back against the mirror. No, it was definitely her first time in this position, but she wonders if the same is true for Frankie. 

Without even realizing it, she’s tensed up. That part doesn’t even register with her, but what does is that Frankie has noticed and stopped, her lips not on her skin but her fingers still lingering in her panties. 

“What’s wrong? Is this not what you want?” Frankie asks, she doesn’t sound mad. Upset, maybe, disappointed. Or maybe just concerned. 

“Have you ever done something like this?” The words fall from her lips before she can reel them back in. 

“Sneak behind my husband’s back?”

Grace scoffs, leave it to Frankie to remind her exactly what they’re doing every chance she can. Because it bothers her, Grace’s minds screams at her. Grace wishes it could bother her too, and maybe it does. But not in the same way it bothers Frankie. Nothing bothers her the same way it bothers Frankie. Grace wants what Frankie has with her family, knows she’ll never have it. Knows whatever this is with Frankie is as close as she’ll get. 

“No, this--you know, in a bathroom,” Grace replies, not looking Frankie in the eye.

“You mean fuck?” Frankie asks, blatantly, a smile playing at her lips when she sees the blush creeping up Grace’s neck, mostly hidden behind the popped collar. 

“Do you have to be so goddamn vulgar?” Grace scoffs.

“You like it when I talk dirty, but I guess that’s only if I’m about to make you come. Or, that one time you finger fucked yourself while I talked you through it on the phone when I was on vacation.”

“Okay,” Grace rolls her eyes, and hops off the counter, her heels echoing a loud click throughout the bathroom. “I’ve been gone too long.”

“The fuck you have,” Frankie blocks her from leaving, then thinks better of it and moves. “If you want to go back out to whatever the hell that is, and miss the party I have going on in here, fine. I’ll just finish this on my own.” She shrugs and sucks two fingers into her mouth and removes them with a pop. 

“Well, if you remember correctly we were supposed to be getting them out of the house, not fucking accompanying them!” Grace complains, as she lingers by the doorway. 

“Oh, suck it up! What’s wrong with this?” Frankie asks, looking around. 

“As fun as this public bathroom is,” Grace scoofs. “I was looking forward to being in the privacy of our home. Where I can fuck you in my bed. Where I don’t have to go in a stall before I fuck you.”

“Who said anything about a stall? I was planning on doing you right here,” Frankie grins. 

“In the open?” Grace gulps, her wide eyes scanning the room before her. “What if someone walks in?”

“They could join?” She shrugs. 

Grace knows she’s serious, at least a little bit, it’s half the reason her hand flies to her chest, like she can’t breathe. The other half being the fear of being walked in on. Being exposed. 

Frankie watches the panic rise up in Grace. Reaches out to her. 

“Hey, I’m kidding. Mostly. We have the whole house to ourselves tomorrow, while they’re golfing. No need to do anything you’re not comfortable with in here.” Frankie tells her, understanding her fears. 

Grace feels the smile playing at her lips, the thought of having Frankie and only Frankie for an afternoon warms her entire body. No sneaking around, no hiding. Fuck, they can walk around naked if they wanted to. 

. 

Her heart also swells, while her thighs press together: they haven’t had each other in weeks and Frankie is willing to forego anything happening tonight because Grace is too uptight. 

This wasn’t supposed to be happening, these feelings. Feelings weren’t part of the mix. This, whatever this was, was strictly sex. Nothing more. 

Yep, this is getting messy indeed, Grace’s hears the voice in her mind repeat but refuses to acknowledge.

And, that’s what forces Grace out of her skin, plunging towards Frankie and helping her lift herself onto the counter while Grace’s eager fingers pull the fabric of her dress away from her body just enough to guide her hand through to the heat she was searching for. 

Only sex, Grace, that’s all this is for her, she reminds herself as Frankie moans into her neck. “I want to taste you,” Grace whimpers.

“What if Robert tries to kiss you?” Frankie asks, surprisingly always being the one to think with a level head, for what might be the first time in her life.

“He won’t,” Grace scoffs, in reality she’s only about 90% certain, but the last 10% seem very worth the risk of being caught if it means she gets to taste Frankie for the first time in what feels like forever. Grace parts Frankie’s legs, kneels down with her purse acting as a pillow, and covers her head with the insane amount of fabric from Frankie’s skirt. 

Grace knows Frankie is turned on, knows Grace going down on her gets her worked up more than anything, knows the fact that Grace’s husband is right outside turns her on even more, even if Frankie won’t admit it. But Grace knows the fact that her own husband also being right outside is tearing her apart, even if Frankie won’t admit it. 

It’s just sex, Grace’s brain repeats, then adds something new: you could at least make sure she comes so hard she will never regret what we’re doing here. Make her want to come back to you.

Frankie moans from above Grace and even though Grace can’t see her, she can imagine what she’s doing, the look on her face, position of her hands, just from memory and habit. Grace laps at her core, lets her lips close over Frankie’s clit, increases the pressure with her tongue. Her nails scrape up Frankie’s legs lightly, she helps Frankie slide her dangling panties off, helps guide them around her clogs, she slips them into her pocket.

Grace moans, sending vibrations throughout Frankie. The way Frankie tastes is something Grace never knew she could love, but now she knows she could never live without it. She would give up the last existing bottle of vodka to have her mouth on Frankie. Knows she gets more drunk off one taste of Frankie than all the vodka in the world. 

Frankie’s thighs squeeze against Grace’s cheeks, she’s close and they both know it. They both also know they have no time to fight it or prolong it. “Come for me, Frankie,” Grace moans, hating the thought that it will be over soon. Her thighs press together, reminding her that she has yet to get off. And, that she won’t be able to. There is no way the men haven’t wondered where they are, it’s a miracle Sol hasn’t come knocking on the door, wondering if Grace killed Frankie. 

Frankie’s thighs shake as she pulls Grace’s hair through the fabric of her skirt, Grace digs her fingers into Frankie’s soft thigh as Frankie comes against her tongue. She helps Frankie come down from the high of the orgasm, helps ease her back to reality. 

“Grace, that was--Wow, I taught you well,” Frankie moans as Grace makes her way out of the fabric, surfaces in the mirror with her makeup slightly smeared and her hair a complete mess. Frankie laughs at her appearance, and Grace rolls her eyes. 

Frankie pulls Grace toward her, her hand sneaking back to its prefered place in Grace’s panties, finding her wet. Frankie connects her lips to Grace’s, slips her tongue into the older womans mouth, tastes herself lingering there. 

“You can’t let Robert kiss you,” Frankie repeats as she pushes Grace into the wall behind them. 

“Frankie,” She moans, trying hard to concentrate, trying hard not to give up, especially as she feels one of Frankie’s fingers slip into her. “We don’t have time,” She wines as Frankie curls her finger, lets her thumb brush against her swollen clit. 

“But, you need this,” Frankie whispers. 

“And I want it,” Grace says as she guides Frankie’s hand out of her jeans. “But we’ve already been gone too long.” 

Frankie nods and accepts her defeat, reaches out the hand that wasn’t just down Grace’s pants and helps her fix herself into looking like she wasn’t just fucked against the bathroom sink. 

“Where are my underwear?” Frankie asks, looking around. 

“In my pocket, and you’re not getting them back,” Grace tells her with a wink as opens the bathroom door. “I’m going to get myself off later, you can call me if you want to hear.” 

Frankie watches as she makes her way back to the table, watches Grace’s lips move as she explains some story as to why they were in the bathroom for what was no doubt a long time, watches Grace smile at Sol like she didn’t just make his wife come with that same mouth. Frankie watches as her heart continues to break, breaks for hurting the man that she loves without him even knowing it, break for the woman she also loves who doesn’t deserve her. No, Frankie quietly decides from the sidelines. Grace deserves so much more.


	3. The Phone Call

Frankie wakes to the slight slam of a door. Her eyes remain closed but she rolls over to her side, pulls the duvet tighter around her cold body. Her tongue slides around her dry mouth, and her hand wanders between her legs. 

She presses against herself, gently at first. Just enough to feel something, just enough to bring her dream roaring back to life into her mind. Frankie’s hand dips beneath her waistband and her fingers are met with a slight wetness she only seems to produce anymore when Grace is involved. 

As she circles her fingers with more pressure, her fantasy fades into last night’s reality:

Sol walking down the beach, Robert in bed for the night. Frankie in her studio, and Grace in the privacy of her room. Her phone vibrates beside her, she sees Grace’s name on the caller ID. For a moment, she tells herself she isn’t going to answer. She tells herself she can’t do this to either of them anymore, it just isn’t fair. Just like she tells herself she’s done fucking Grace, every single time. And, she means it. Until she doesn’t, until she can’t. Until all the reasons she shouldn’t don’t matter anymore and the only thing that does is the way Grace whimpers beneath her, the way Grace calls her name, the way Grace begs for it. 

In the end, Frankie pushes her loving husband to the back of her mind and picks up after only a few rings. Grace is already breathing heavy through the line and Frankie immediately feels it between her thighs. 

“Grace,” Frankie moans into the phone. Her head spins, hands shake. It’s insane really, the effect this woman has on her. The way she turns Frankie to a puddle of nothing, just like Grace said during their fight. 

“I want you,” Grace breathes. Her voice is low, like she’s trying not to be heard and it sends Frankie even higher. 

“Why are you whispering?” 

“Robert is next to me.” Her answer is simple, but its reaction on Frankie is not. Grace is fucking herself next to her sleeping husband while seeking help from Frankie. She presses her thighs together again. 

“How do you want me?” Frankie hears Grace’s intake of breath, she knows this is hard for her: vocalizing what she wants. But Frankie works on it a little more each time, pushes her a little further down the road of self discovery and self pleasure. This was always easier for Grace, through the phone, hidden by walls and doors and whatever else was separating them. But she’s never been so brave as to having Robert asleep by her side. 

Hell, when all of this started, Grace wouldn’t even say the word “clitoris” let alone touch hers. But, they’ve come a long way since then. 

“I want you,” Grace pauses and Frankie thinks this is all she’s going to get. She opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by a low moan. “I want you, pressed against me, on me.” Frankie feels pride boom through her veins along with white hot arousal. “Inside me.”

 

“Oh, Grace,” Frankie groans. “If I was there,” She starts. 

“You can be!” Grace is quick to respond, clearly lost in all the sensations she’s giving herself to realize her slip up: Frankie has never once been invited into Grace’s bed. She’s never once allowed Frankie to penetrate her that way. Never opened the door, never took solace in being fucked in her own bed. 

“Roberts there,” Frankie gently reminds her, knowing the thought of Robert next to her doesn’t fuel Grace like it does herself. 

“But I need you Frankie.” Grace’s voice is higher pitched now, despite her still whispering. 

“I’m right here. I’ll get you through it,” Frankie tells her. Her hand is against her breast, awaiting the go ahead from Grace. 

“Can you-touch yourself, too?” 

“Yes, baby,” Frankie moans as she pinches her nipple between her fingers and lets out a little squeak. 

“Were you waiting for me to ask?” Grace whispers. 

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to be invited to do tha-” Grace stops, her word replaced by a low groan and Frankie knows that noise. She’s inside herself now. Frankie moves her hand lower, trails it down her body. She hovers at her waistband. 

“Are you using one or two?” Frankie hears herself ask, her own voice is thick with arousal. 

“Three,” Grace replies and the moan that erupts from Frankie shocks her. Frankie only used three fingers on Grace when she was so worked up, she was about to die. When she needed something more. 

Frankie let her hand slip beneath her pajama pants and into her plain panties, pure opposite of what Grace was sporting, she’s sure. 

“I want you so bad,” Frankie tells her as she deposits one of her own fingers inside herself. 

“Me, too.” Grace’s breathing is more erratic now, more choppy. Frankie knows it won’t be long, knows she should pick up the pace. Her thumb brushes along her clit and she moans again. “I love that sound.” 

Frankie closes her eyes against the sensations, her fingers in and against herself, Grace’s voice taking her higher. Her orgasm is on the horizon now, only a little chasing left. 

“We have the house to ourselves tomorrow,” Frankie whispers as her thighs begin to shake. 

“Oh-I know, I can’t wait to undress you and bury my face-oh god-in your thighs.” Frankie hears her come, imagines the look on her face as she does. She knows Grace is going to offer her a small goodbye, hang up the phone, and go wash her hands before she touches anything. She’ll inch off the bed slowly so she doesn’t disturb Robert, she’ll climb back in and go to sleep next to her husband like nothing happened. 

The moment before Frankie comes, two things happen at once: the door to the studio opens and Grace begins talking again. Panic rises in Frankie as she mumbles “gotta go, Grace,” and clicks the phone off but the orgasm rips through her anyway, tears her apart as she watches her husband come in the door and smile at her appreciatively. When she’s returned tosets her hand beside her on the bed, clutches the phone with the other. 

“That looked like a good one,” Sol beams at her and she forces a smile back at him. 

“Sorry I didn’t wait for you, but the mood struck.”

“Were you talking to Grace?” He asks, her heart drops to her ass. 

“Yeah,” Frankie shrugs off the question with a laugh. “She wanted to know if I took her nice vase.” Frankie points at the table to the marble vase. 

“Well, she sure got an earful, didn’t she?” Soo chuckles as he sits down on the bed next to her. 

“Maybe she’ll be less of a prude now.”

“Hearing one orgasm isn’t going to help her that drastically.” Frankie turns away to go wash her hands before Sol can read the look on her face screaming: oh, Sol, if you only knew.


	4. The Nap

Grace is sitting at the kitchen island, sipping her coffee when she feels a gentle hand press against the small of her back, another lingers around her slim waist. She leans back into the touch, chases the source of the warmth. Frankie carefully untuck her crisp button down from her jeans and she lets her warm fingers graze across Grace’s cool skin.

Grace’s hands still are enclosed over her coffee cup as she tilts her head to the side, allows Frankie room to connect her lips to the part of her neck not hidden by her popped collar. She can feel the plushness of Frankie’s robe against her skin and she’s not at all surprised the other woman has yet to change out of her pajamas despite it almost being the afternoon.

 

“Good morning to you, too,” Grace says with a grin on her face, she fights the urge to moan as Frankie’s hand slips into her shirt and caresses her breast. Grace parts her legs, she’s ready. She’s been ready for Frankie since the moment the guys left for the golf course hours ago. 

 

Frankie neglects to respond with words but makes up for her silence by dragging her tongue up the length of Grace’s exposed throat. 

 

“Mmm,” Grace hums her appreciation as she lets her hands fall from the edge of the cup, forgetting about it completely. Goose flesh becomes present on her soft skin. 

 

“How did you sleep?” Frankie asks when she disconnects her lips from Grace’s salty skin. 

 

“Not good, I never do when Robert is next to me.” Grace turns her body to center towards Frankie. She grabs the collar of her shirt and pulls her in. The kiss they share is lazy, comfortable; yet still fevered, a promise for what is to come. Frankie tastes like organic toothpaste and weed, an odd mixture to Grace’s lingering hints of the coffee she was just drinking. When they pull apart she connects their foreheads together. “How does a nap sound?” 

 

Alarm bells ring in Frankie’s mind. Sure, they’ve slept together. Never for long though, hell, she isn’t even sure Grace has ever fallen asleep. And, it’s never been in the middle of the day, and never before they have sex. They had the house to themselves all day while the men were golfing but using that time to nap seemed far too intimate, for both of them. After all, wasn't this supposed to be just sex? Isn’t that what she’s been telling herself since this whole thing started?

 

_ Fuck it all to hell  _ rolls through Frankie’s cluttered mind. “We can go out to the studio if you want?” Frankie suggests, ignoring the alarm bells. 

 

“The couch is right there.” Grace stands from her stool, grabs Frankies hand. 

 

Frankie plops down on the couch, like she always does. She sees a momentary flash of annoyance in Grace’s eyes but the scold she’s used to hearing never comes. Grace curls up beside her, she covers them with the blanket they always keep out, for this exact occasion. Just not with each other. Robert and Grace never used it, they never cuddled. They didn’t even like to sit by each other on the couch. The blanket reeks of Sol, Grace knows Frankie has to smell it too. Knows it’s killing her to think of her husband when she’s doing this, with Grace of all people. Frankie stays still beside, unsure of what to do with her body. Unsure of how to touch Grace. 

 

“Why are you being weird?” Grace asks, her voice is laced with concern even though she’s sure it has to do with the blanket.  _ Fuck, I’ll burn it if that’ll help her.  _

 

“Grace, we don’t do this. This isn’t what we do.”

 

“Sleep?” Grace asks, she looks genuinely confused and Frankie doesn't know why. 

 

“Yes. You don’t let me in your room, you never spend the night with me. All this is, is sex. Hot, lesbian sex.” Frankie looks over at Grace, watches her hand come to her cheek like shes been slapped.

 

“Is that all I am to you, Frankie? Sex?” Grace’s voice breaks on her last word. She turns away on the couch, wipes the tear away from her cheek before Frankie can see it. 

 

Grace isn’t sure why she’s upset, it’s not like she didn’t know this was coming. Frankie didn’t feel a fraction of what she felt for her, this was just sex to her. She’d known it all along, she shouldn’t be surprised. She takes a deep breath and turns back to Frankie. 

 

Frankie’s hand lands on her thigh under the blanket. It’s not suggestive, but it sends electricity through Grace, it mixes with all the other emotions she’s feeling. “Of course you’re more than sex to me. Do you think I would cheat on my husband just for sex? I can get that from him. But I want to know if this means anything at all to you, because fuck, Grace, you are mean to me!”

 

“Frankie, there are things I said before. I-” Grace stops, she grabs Frankie’s hand off her thigh, holds it tightly in her own. She lets her fingers intertwine with Frankie’s. “I don’t mean them anymore.”

 

“What do you mean now then?” Franke asks, she looks into Grace’s face, sees the effects of years of worrying, years of depriving herself from what she really desires, she sees the effects from years of hiding. 

 

“Now, I know who you are. I know what you mean to me, and I know that I never want to go another day without being able to run my hands down your body, or kiss your lips. Frankie, I am not who I used to be, out of all people you should know that.” Grace stops to catch her breath, she lets go of Frankie’s hand and lets her hand rest on the inside of her thigh. 

 

Frankie isn’t sure how to respond without confessing her love for Grace, the love she's not supposed to feel, the love that is no doubt forbidden. Her husband’s face briefly flashes behind her closed eyes as she feels Grace’s hand slide further up the inside of her thigh. Desire burns through her body, settles between her legs along with Grace’s hand. But, Grace’s request is stuck in her mind. 

 

“What about the nap you wanted to take?” Frankie moans through clenched teeth. Grace’s fingers lazily circle around her clitoris through her pajama bottoms. 

 

“You didn’t seem very into it, you’re responding better to this,” Grace tells her softly against the hot skin of her neck. Her lips linger against Frankie, breathing onto her. 

 

“I just didn’t know sleeping together, actually sleeping, was something we both wanted.” Frankie uses all her willpower to place her hand on top of Grace’s and pull it away from where she wanted it most, but this, this turning point in their relationship was more important. Turning from strictly sex to something else. Something much different. This was uncharted territory, for both of them and Frankie had never been more thankful for her adventurous soul helping lead the way. 

 

“Do you know when I first knew I wanted you?” Grace asks, her hand grazes the soft skin of Frankie’s stomach as she let her fingers slip beyond the elastic waistband and into the younger woman's panties. Frankie’s legs fall open and Grace lets her fingers roam free. 

 

“When?” Frankie sounds distant, like she’s not really paying attention. Her head is back against the couch, she lifts the foot farthest away from Grace and places it on the coffee table, allowing Grace better access.

 

“It was long ago, I’m not sure you’ll even remember. We both know how your memory is,” Grace teases not only with her words but also with skillful fingers. “The first night we had this house, we all stayed the night together. I got drunk and you got high, I’m not even sure where the guys were but for some reason I was gravitating towards you in my drunk state. And, I yelled at you for smoking weed or something stupid. I got way too in your face about it. I cornered you to the side of the house and really lit into you.” Grace stops talking, takes a breath and focuses on her fingers movements while Frankie moans under her. “I was so close to you, you were up against the wall, I had my hand resting on the wall holding me up just to the left of your shoulder. And, my body came alive. I was so alarmed and ashamed by what I felt, I stopped yelling mid sentence and just ran away. Up to my room. I took a cold shower, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what I would have rather been doing to you instead of yelling.”

 

Frankie’s hand is on her own breast now, kneading and needing. She looks over at Grace, her eyes are glazed over with lust. “I remember. I went to the studio and rubbed one out after that. But it wasn’t the first time I had thought about you that way.” Frankie admits mere seconds before she comes. Grace watches the magic that is Frankie undone, a sight she will never get sick of, a sight she thanks a god she’s not sure she believes in for. 

 

“What if we would have found each other first?” Grace asks, she knows she shouldn’t have said it as soon as the words leave her mouth. Knows she’s on thin ice whenever she brings up their husbands. She knows family means something different to Frankie than it does to her, knows family is everything to Frankie. 

 

“Oh, honey,” Frankie sighs as she helps guide Grace’s hand out of her cotton panties. “I’m just glad we found each other.” She pulls Grace closer to her, helps her lay down across her lap. “Take your nap,” Frankie encourages her, she runs her hand through Grace’s blonde locks and with her other hand she covers Grace with the discarded throw blanket. 

 

Grace smiles up at Frankie, and Frankie forgets oxygen is something she needs. She sucks in a breath. Her thumb traces over Grace’s plump bottom lips and Frankie’s sure this is the closest she’s ever looked to a cartoon in her entire life, her eyes had to be the shape of hearts staring down at Grace. 

 

“You don’t want to nap?” Grace asks, and Frankies thumb gets caught between her teeth gently. It doesn’t matter that she just came, doesn’t matter that she should be calmed down by now. The reality is she wasn’t, and she wasn’t sure she ever would be calm again with Grace as a lover, igniting her body on fire without even meaning to. 

 

“I’m gonna nap, promise.” Frankie leans forward and places a kiss on Grace’s forehead. Her lips linger for a second and Frankie wants to ask if Grace wants to get off first, but when she sits back up, Grace’s eyes are already closed and her breathing was more shallow. 

 

Frankie watched as Grace fell deeper into her slumber, she trailed her fingers across Grace’s back. The clock chimed from behind her as she moved a stray piece of hair from Grace’s face. “I love you,” Frankie whispers to the woman before her, the woman she needed more than she needed her next breath. “I love you, Grace Hanson,” She whispers again, warmth fills her chest as guilt fills her brain.  _ How can loving one person cause so much fucking pain?  _ Frankie wonders as a tear slips down her cheek and lands on her wedding band. 

  
  
  


  
  
  



	5. The Movie

“Grace,” Frankie whispers after the initial grin on her face disappeared and she realized Grace wasn’t just playing around. “We could get caught!” 

“Frankie,” Grace says loudly while her hand continues to sit on Frankie’s knee. “I’m cold, will you pass me the blanket behind you?” 

Frankie knows what she’s doing, knows what will happen if she gives her the blanket, knows their husbands are in the other room having coffee and chatting about their day full of golfing they just got back from, knows they could rejoin them at any time, but she can’t bring herself to care. 

It briefly crosses her mind that Grace is feeling very generous, this is her third time assessing Frankie’s needs today versus Frankie returning the favor only once. 

Frankie grabs the thin blanket from behind her on the couch and tosses it to Grace, she opens it and drapes it over her lap and over Frankie’s. Frankie feels the air escape her lungs as Grace closes the distance between their bodies, their legs pressed against each other’s, Grace’s arm sneaks around her back and squeezes her tightly, lovingly. Frankie glances back at the kitchen as Grace moves her other hand from where it rested on Frankie’s knee up to her shoulder. 

She nuzzles her face into Frankie’s neck, smells the scent of her shampoo. “You have to be quiet,” Grace warns before trailing her hand down Frankie’s arm, her hand rests at the waistband of Frankie’s sweats for a moment before she too turns back to the kitchen. 

Frankie freezes, not sure if Grace heard something she missed. After all, it was no secret her hearing was not the best. But all Frankie could hear was the dull dialogue of whatever movie was playing in the background. She tried to listen, even turned her head toward the kitchen but that turned out to be an even worse idea because now her mouth was inches from Grace’s. 

A sigh escapes Frankie’s parted lips as she feels Grace slip her hand down her pants, cool fingers connecting with her hot skin. Grace lazily lets her fingers circle around Frankie’s bundle of nerves before sliding through her slick folds as she continues to look in Frankie’s eyes. 

“You’re wet enough for me to--if you want,” Grace whispers, two fingers pressed against Frankie’s entrance. Frankie can see the desperation in Grace’s eyes. She can see the need, for more than one thing. The need for Frankie to say yes, the need for herself to be able to speak the words.

“Yes,” Frankie moans. She never tells Grace, but getting penetrated by her long fingers is far better than being with her husband had ever been. Sure, he as a giving lover, always eager to please but she never came with him or anyone else, herself included, the way she did from Grace’s fingers. 

“You have to be quiet,” Grace warns her again. She waits for Frankie to nod before she slides one finger into Frankie, then another. Grace kept her head turned to the side, half so she could watch Frankie and half so she could hear the conversation in the other room. 

Frankie’s bottom lip is between her teeth, biting down what looks hard enough to draw blood. Her fingers dig into Grace’s thigh, teasing her, taunting her, reminding her that she’s been aching all day. She opens her legs further without even meaning to.

“Mmm,” Frankie hums, “We need to get you taken care of, baby.” Her words travel right to Grace’s core, she squirms a little on the sofa. Her thumb moves purposefully against Frankie’s clit as she works her fingers slowly inside her. She can hear her movements, it’s an impossible turn on. Briefly, she wonders if Sol can do this, effect her this way but she quickly chases the idea out of her head. “I wish I could taste you,” Frankie whispers and the moan Grace lets out is anything but silent. Her free hand clamps over her mouth, her eyes stay glued to the kitchen. 

It’s not like Robert and Sol were far away, all one of them had to do was peak their head around the corner and it was game over. And, while the thought of being caught left a pit in Grace’s stomach, it fueled her, lifted her higher. 

As Grace curls her fingers, she feels Frankie bite down on her shoulder. It was a warning she didn’t need. She already knew Frankie was close, knew it as soon as Frankie started making that little whimpering noise about fifteen seconds ago. 

“Come for me, baby” Grace moans softly in her ear before licking down her neck and stopping at her collarbone. Frankie’s head hit the back of the couch as her back arched away from it. Grace lifted her hand to place over Frankie’s mouth but Frankie first captured her lips in a searing kiss as she came against Grace’s hand. 

Grace kissed her slowly as she came down from her high, she knew this was messy, knew it had to be louder than they should’ve been but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Frankie’s tongue against hers something she never knew she needed, but now she doesn’t know how she lived without it.

When Frankie pulls away, Grace fights to keep her breathing under control, fights to not let out the moan that's been in her throat since before her eager fingers found their way into Frankie’s panties.

Grace’s fingers are still inside Frankie when she hears the echo of footsteps on the hardwood floor getting closer. She has about five seconds to get her hand in her own space, but it’s hard to tell what space is Grace’s and what's Frankie’s when she’s so close she’s practically in her lap. She sees the wide-eyed look of panic on Frankie’s whole face, she sees the guilt. They both know they’re too close for this to look innocent. Frankie is sweating, her hair is a mess, Grace is panting like she’s the one who just got fucked, and there isn’t even enough room for Jesus between them. 

Frankie, never being the one who was good in any situation, is oddly enough the one who at the last second pulls Grace’s hand from her sweats and holds it in hers under the blanket. The sound of Robert and Sol is only a distant buzz in Grace’s head even though she knows they’re right behind them. 

“We’re gonna go for a walk down the beach if you girls wanna join?” Sol asks, he places a gentle hand on Frankie’s shoulder. 

“I’m pretty tired,” Grace says at the same time as Frankie mumbles something about being into this semi-scary movie as fuck. 

“Okay, goodnight Grace, thanks for keeping her company! I’ll see you soon, Frankie.” Grace watches as Robert doesn’t even so much as a glance in their direction on the walk out the door. He bids his farewell with a small wave. 

The back door closes and Grace turns her attention back to the woman beside her. Frankie has a look on her face that Grace had never seen before. She watches as Frankie’s bottom lip quivered. 

“Grace, you were supposed to stop me before it ever got this far.” Frankie’s hand shakes in hers. Grace squeezes. She knows where this ends, she knows this is it. Frankie is about to break her heart. She braces herself for the impact. “My hand, you’re hurting me,” Frankie whispers. 

“I’m sorry,” Grace sighs, she let go. Places her hand in her own lap. She stares down at it, through the tears in her eyes. “For everything.” 

Grace places a soft kiss in Frankie's hair as she stands. She makes her way across the floor with a hand against her chest, gently rubbing her sternum, a tactic Frankie had used to soothe her after the first time kissed, back when Grace didn’t know how to control her panic attacks. Her fingers find their way to the full bottle of vodka by the door, she knows she’s going to need it. She sneaks one last glance back at the woman crumbling on the couch. Grace longs to reach out to her, longs to comfort her, longs to give her anything she needs. Even if Grace isn’t what she needs. 

Hours later when Grace’s phone still hadn’t chimed, she lays in her bed, tears landing on her pillow with a hand that is still covered in Frankie and now herself between her legs, when Grace comes, Frankie is on her mind and she doesn’t try to hide the sobs escaping her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all im so sorry lol


	6. The Porch

Frankie is laying in bed when she hears her name being yelled from the bottom of the stairs, and if she’s any expert on the voice yelling it, Frankie would say she’s about three martinis past her limit. Three martinis past holding her feelings inside. Three martinis past hiding her desires and if Frankie is any expert on Grace, she wants it bad. She switches on the lamp beside her, and sits up. She watches as Sol sleepily lifts his head from the pillow. 

 

“What’s her deal now? She’s been in odd form the past few days, even for her,” Sol asks, as he rubs his eyes. Frankie winces and hopes Sol doesn’t notice, just another thing to add to that list. 

 

“The sea witch is drunk, no surprise there and I promised to help her with the dishes but I dipped out before she noticed,” Frankie muttered, hating herself a little more for each lie she told. But, she knew this one would hurt a lot less than “I’ve been fucking her for months, but I haven’t in over forty eight hours since you almost caught us. And we’re both losing our minds.” The angry yelling was becoming louder now, and Grace was banging on the door.

 

“Want me to get rid of her?” 

 

“No,” Frankie answers quickly. The last thing she wants is Sol to answer the door, for Grace to let something slip in her drunken state. She’s already out of bed and halfway to the door. Her feet carry her toward the poison filled woman without her even making the conscious decision to move. She opens the door and Grace drags her by the arm.

 

“You forgot to finish.” The words Grace has chosen are simple, they spill out of her mouth like venom and while not explicit they ignite something inside Frankie, somethings that she’s been trying to keep put out. Frankie knows when Grace is angry, she knows when Grace’s feelings are authentic and while she might be angry, this is not one of those times. She’s masking her desire with anger. As soon as the door behind Frankie has latched, Grace is on Frankie. Her lips searching for skin, fabric, anything. Her hands maneuver through layers of clothing. Frankie feels Grace’s hand between her legs. 

 

“Grace,” Frankie pulls away, her eyes dark. Grace’s fingers move against Frankie and she can’t bring herself to make her stop. 

 

“What?”

 

“You’re drunk. And Sol is awake,” She scolds. “And we’re not doing this anymore,” She adds in a whisper.

 

“Frankie, I need this. I’m aching for you so bad.” Frankie isn’t sure if Grace meant to sound like she was choking, literally struggling to breathe, but she did, and Frankie knows she’ll give Grace anything she wants no matter how hard she was trying not to. “Please?” Grace grabs her by the hand and pulls her towards her. Grace’s back slams against the railing, her hands grip onto it immediately, knuckles white. 

 

Frankie’s fingers find their way to the button of Grace’s jeans and quickly undoes it. Her hand slips beneath the fabric, slips beneath her designer panties. Frankie feels a familiar heat, has to choke back the moan in her throat. 

 

“Be quiet, baby,” Frankie whispers as she slides a finger inside Grace. She’s already wet, Frankie swallows hard.  

 

Grace gasps as Frankie fills her, she clings onto the railing with one hand and her other is in Frankie’s hair, pulling. “I miss you, I’m sorry. Frankie, I’ll do anything you want. I’ll give you anything. I-” Grace whispers into Frankie’s neck. She wraps her leg around Frankie’s waist.

 

“Come for me, beautiful. I know you’re close. It’ll feel so good,” Frankie encourages in hushed tones with her eyes glued to the older woman. This isn’t what is supposed to be happening, fucking your husbands business partner’s wife, at your shared beach house, in the open, where literally anyone could catch them. But, none of that ever seemed to matter as Grace came undone around her fingers.

 

“Frankie, I love you.” The words erupt from Grace like lava, like she couldn’t hold them back for another second even if she wanted to. She doesn’t look like she regrets what she said, she doesn’t even look surprised by her outburst. 

 

Frankie’s movements stop as she stares at the woman before her, eyes wide. It was long enough after her orgasm that she couldn’t even blame it on that. No, this was something entirely different. Something Grace had thought about, something she had lost sleep over. Frankie watches as Grace waits, the darkness around them acts like a blanket. It shields them from the rest of the world, shields them from their sleeping husbands and their families. 

 

“Look, you don’t have to say it back, I just thought you should know.” Grace’s eyes are brighter than usual, less cloudy. Her words sit between them contently. She smiles as she eases Frankie’s hand out of her and closes her fingers around Frankie’s. She squeezes gently. “And, my room is always open to you. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to let you in, but I was just trying to protect myself. I was trying to keep a piece of myself, just mine but I realize that’s not what I want. I want you. I know that now, I love you.” 

 

Everything Grace said was everything Frankie had ever wanted to hear, yet she felt panic rising in her. This was too messy, this isn’t how this was supposed to happen. Her heart felt like it was being ripped out of her chest, felt like it was breaking into a million pieces. Heart attacks suddenly made sense; the heart, attacked. 

 

“I- thank you for sharing your truth with me, Grace,” Frankie whispered as she squeezed Grace’s hand in hers. She shook her head, her hair bounced around her. “I have to get back in there, before Sol wakes up.” Frankie squeezed her hand once more before dropping it at her side and turning on her heel and leaving Grace alone under the dim light of the porch. 


	7. The Idea

Grace lays in her big, empty bed. She’s fully dressed in jeans and a button down but goose flesh covers her body as she watches the sunlight bounce off her ugly colored walls, in her ugly house that she’s never even liked. 

 

It’s hot outside, but Grace has the central air cranked in her room, polar opposite of being at the beach house with Frankie where they leave off the air conditioner and open every window. They welcome in the breeze of the sea. 

 

Everything here, in this ugly house is the polar opposite of being with Frankie, polar opposite of being at the beach house. And, Grace hates it. She has nothing to do, no way to pass the time. Nothing brings her joy here. She lifts her dry martini to her even more dry lips and takes another drink. It’s only a little past noon, much too early to be drinking like a sailor. But, Grace doesn’t care. 

 

Lately she can’t bring herself to care about much, except Frankie. The one constant thing on her mind. The one constant thing she wishes she had unlimited access to, if only things were different.

 

She runs her long fingers through her thick hair, its frizzy and curly from her shower and for a second she pretends it belongs to Frankie.  _ Frankie. _ The thought of her lingers in her chest, a shiver runs down her spine.  _ If  _ Grace were different, if she were more like Frankie, she would chase that feeling Frankie gives her, chase it with her own fingers. But, she’s Grace so she doesn’t. No matter how much she wants to. 

 

Their week at the beach house had concluded last Sunday. Grace glanced over at her calendar. Six days. Six days since she’d packed her bag and left her and Frankie’s haven with her husband that she didn’t even like to come back to her ugly house that was much too big. Seven days since she’s touched Frankie. Seven days since Frankie had touched  _ her. _ One week since she’d told Frankie she was in love with her. Seven long days since she’d felt anything besides numbness, besides pain. 

 

Grace’s phone lies beside her on the mattress, she’s only one click from the woman who holds all the cards. One click from everything but numbness. Yet, her fingers close over her martini instead of her phone. 

 

Grace had only ever felt full two times in her life. One was because of vodka, the other was because of Frankie Bergstein. The two didn’t mix well, no matter how hard she tried. And, oddly enough when Grace was full because of Frankie she didn’t want to be full from vodka. But, when she was full of vodka, all she wanted was to be full of Frankie. Like now. 

 

In the end, Grace loses the battle she had going with herself. The battle where she doesn’t call her husbands best friends wife and beg for relief and beg for forgiveness in the same breath. She picks up her phone and dials Frankie’s number. When it goes to voicemail, Grace finds herself unprepared. 

 

_ “Hey, it’s me. Listen, I want you to come over, if you want to. My bed is awfully big, and empty-and you know I’ve never really liked this house. It’s nothing like the beach, where you’re my every memory but I want memories of you here. I want to remember being happy here, and I can’t really recall that ever being the case. So, come over, please. Frankie, I love you.” _

 

Grace ends the call, her hands are shaking. Those three words just seem to spill out of her mouth these days. It never really occurred to Grace not to leave such an intimate voicemail on the phone of the woman she was having an affair with, a married woman at that. But, even if it had crossed Grace’s mind, she doubts she’d be able to bring herself to care. 

 

The seconds turn into minutes, how many of them Grace isn’t sure. She isn’t even aware of the front door opening. When her eyes flutter open Frankie is in front of her.  _ Dreaming, I must be dreaming.  _ Teary eyed and red face. 

 

“Grace,” Frankie whispered. “I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to do this to Sol, I don’t want to hurt him.”  _ Great, _ Grace scoffs to herself.  _ Even in my dreams she’s come here to rub in how she doesn’t want to be with me. She’s leaving me for good now. She’s picking her husband and I won’t survive it.  _ Grace picks up her martini from the table and takes a sip while her other hand grips the table. Grips so tight her knuckles turn white. She’s planning her escape, looking around the room frantically. The house belongs to her but it looks foreign. The room spins, feels like it’s closing in on her.  

 

“But, I want you. I need you. And, the scariest thing of all this is I’d hurt anyone I needed to in order to make it happen.” Frankie wipes the tears from her cheek as Grace’s whole body visibly relaxes. 

 

_ She wants to be with me, she feels the same way I do.  _ The room comes to a halt, the oxygen suddenly doesn’t burn her lungs anymore.

 

__ “Which is why we have to tell them,” Frankie whispers and the martini in Grace’s right hand falls to her lap, soaking her in vodka. It leaves the room smelling of rubbing alcohol. Frankie grabs for the glass but it falls from her lap before she reaches it. 

 

All Grace hears is the shattering of glass. She sees Frankie’s lips moving but doesn’t register anything she’s said. She knows the vodka fell on her but she doesn’t feel it. 

 

“Okay,” Grace whispers. “I should be scared or panicked but I’m not. I think I’m more shocked than anything. Are you sure this is what you want? This is what I want, Frankie. You are what I want.” She pulls Frankie into her arms.

 

“Lets get you out of those wet clothes,” Frankie tells her as she pulls away. Her fingers begin to unbutton Grace’s shirt. “And, that wasn’t a come on, lady.”

 

“Oh, so you tell me you want to be with me and then are gonna act like you don't want this?” Grace laughs as she unbuttons her jeans and slides them down her hips. 

 

“Grace! The windows here are huge! It’s daylight!” Frankie scolds as she attempts to cover Grace’s newly uncovered skin with outstretched arms. 

 

“I don’t care, I’d fuck you on the front lawn right now if that’s how you wanted me.” Grace leaves her button down in place, but slips her black panties off. She watches as Frankie’s full bottom lip slides between her teeth. She hands her panties along with her jeans to Frankie and follows her to the laundry room. 

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Grace whispers against the back of Frankie’s neck. Her lips gently graze over her hot skin as she waits for Frankie to respond. When she doesn’t, Grace pushes her gently forward so she’s pressed against the washing machine. “We should move to Alaska.” 

 

Her words linger in the air, like fog. Frankie will think she’s kidding, think she’s lost her mind but it’s all she’s been able to think about since the thought crossed her mind last week at the beach. 

 

“Frankie, you would love it. Just think of all the wildlife, the scenery, you’d never run out of things to paint, we could live off the land.” Frankie still isn’t taking her seriously. She’s distracted by Grace’s hot breath on her neck. 

 

“It could be fun,” Frankie agrees as she presses the start button on the washer. 

 

Grace’s fingers trail up Frankie’s thigh and slip inside her panties. “We could get chickens,” Grace suggests, her other hand grips the fabric at Frankie’s hip, she pulls them closer. 

 

Frankie moans, and Grace isn’t sure if it’s from her rough touch or from the fact that Grace just told her she’d allow them to own chickens,  _ if  _ Frankie runs away with her. The idea is absurd, Grace knows.  _ If.  _ Grace forces the doubt from her mind. Her fingers circle purposefully, Frankie’s head falls against Grace’s shoulder. 

 

Frankie’s wet, but not enough for what Grace has planned. If she wants to go inside,  _ I do, _ she thinks, they’ll have to take this somewhere else, somewhere where there is lube. 

 

The washing machine is cold against Grace’s arm, it chills her body. Her fingers circle Frankie’s clit, already swollen to the touch. 

 

“Honey, let's take this to the bedroom,” Grace hears herself say, her words are muffled against Frankie’s neck. 

 

The washing machine clicks onto the next cycle and begins to hum gently. “It’s too bad they don’t make these like they used to,” Frankie laughs. 

 

“Frankie,” Grace begins, impatiently. “I really want to fuck you, can we go upstairs?” 

 

“Well, christ on a cracker, why didn’t you just say so?” Frankie pulls Grace out of the laundry room and towards the stairs at record speed. 

 

“I thought my hand down your pants kinda gave it away,” Grace rolls her eyes, but a smile is present on her face. She pulls gently on Frankie’s arm. They come to a halt in front of the giant bay window that looks out onto the street. 

 

People could walk by, Robert could come home, cars pass. None of it matters. Grace is only wearing her button down, that covers hardly nothing yet she’s never felt more comfortable. 

 

“Thank you, for coming back,” Grace whispers. “For coming here.”

 

Frankie pulls Grace to her, Grace’s hands find their way to Frankie’s hair. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.” 

 

.


End file.
